


Uphill

by Vixenmage



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Gen, M/M, Marriage, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 19:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixenmage/pseuds/Vixenmage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years after the events of The Impossible Astronaut, the Doctor returns to Nixon's office to settle a score.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uphill

The heavyset man sighed as he closed the door to his office. He had really, really hoped he'd seen the last of this... sort of thing. Down in the polls from last month, and despite what his campaign people were saying, he thought it was likely he'd lose this election badly, if he didn't do something about it. In short, the last thing he needed was a big blue box in his office.

Again.

"Well!" The Doctor poked his head around the side of the... tar-dish? Something like that, anyway. "You've disappointed me," he continued, still with that bright manner. "I thought I left you pretty clear instructions!"

President Nixon blinked, trying to remember what instructions he'd been given, if anything. "I'm not sure what you mean," he said, finally. "Doctor, I thought we'd finished all our business the last time we met."

He walked around to his desk, sat down, and folded his hands on the desk's surface, frowning up at the cheerful British chap, who'd come all the way around the box and was leaning on it nonchalantly.

"So had I, Dicky," the Doctor told him, shaking his head. He sounded less cheerful, now. "But I can't help but notice you've fallen through your end of the deal."

He could feel a headache - another one - coming on, squeezing the edge of his perception. "What deal? There was a massive disturbance, I was assured it had been taken care of, we haven't done anything... at all, really!" He was blustering now, irritated - he had a lot of paperwork to get to, there was more trouble blooming on the CIA front, and it was too damned early to be dealing with aliens _again_.

The Doctor looked at him for a long moment, sorrow shadowing his eyes. "I know," he said, finally. "That's my whole problem. Don't you remember our last conversation, Dic--

" _Stop calling me that_!" The last thing he needed was another press nickname.

"I'll take that as a no, then, shall I?"

Nixon put his head in his hands, and thought back to the last time he'd seen this infuriating man. Had it been... they'd shaken hands, hadn't they? And then that CIA agent, the one who-- _oh_. Oh. He looked back up.

The Doctor was now standing in front of his desk, arms folded. "Oh, yes," he breathed. "You remember. And yet - here we are, three years later, and I can't help but notice that Canton's still not married." He tapped his foot against the rug. "I checked," he added.

"Look," Nixon began, as patiently as he could manage - not very, it seemed - "It's an election year. I can't try to throw this policy into the works now! All the cards I've got against McGovern are courting that middle voter, and the middle voter is never going to swallow that. Doctor, it's just not possible!"

"I see," the Brit responded, glancing over his head. He paced, walking around the desk to stare out the barred window. "I _really_ hate politicians," he muttered, tapping the glass. Abruptly, he whirled around to face Nixon, who was watching him from the desk. "Well! We had a deal, and you had _three years_ to do it. This is my final offer," he said, his voice dropping. "Canton gets married, or you will suffer the consequences."

The president stared at him. "You've lost it," he growled. "Get out of my office. When we win this election, I'll make you eat those words, Doctor."

The Doctor stared back for a moment, something flashing in his eyes. He slammed the TARDIS door open, stepped in, and paused on the threshhold. "The seventeenth of June," he said, almost too quietly to be heard. "You go ahead and win this election, _Dicky_ , and we'll see what happens."

With a final slam of the door, the TARDIS vanished, that trademark buzzing sound echoing in the Oval Office. Richard Nixon snarled at the empty space, glanced down at his desk, and picked up the phone.

"Do it," he growled. "We will win this election at _any cost_."

***

Their backyard was modest, but the trees around the edges hid the blue box well, and provided some privacy. Canton smiled briefly at Tim, who grinned back. Their guest looked back and forth between them, and nearly swallowed an ice cube with a pull of iced tea.

"I knew a guy who could make the call," Canton told the Doctor, leaning back, his hand over Tim's, under the table. "I figured it was better to keep this - you, me, the whole thing - out of sight. Last thing we need is more press on that incident."

The Doctor nodded. "If that's done, and you're both ready, what are we waiting for?" He gestured to the TARDIS behind him, and the two men stood, grinning at each other again. 

It was crazy - this whole thing was out of this world, quite literally, but they were both glad for it. This world was a bit overrated. They followed the Doctor across the lawn, tuxedos juxtaposed strangely against the sunny day, and the green light filtering down through the sycamores. The blue door swung open, and the Doctor bowed, his grin threatening to split his face, energy bursting through his every pore - he loved weddings, he'd told Canton at least three times the previous day.

Tim stepped through, Canton right behind him, and gasped. "Ah! It really _is_ bigger on the inside!"

Beaming, the Doctor bounded past them and grabbed the controls. Canton leaned over and kissed Tim. "Hold on tight," he advised. "It gets wild."

***

Tim looked down at the album. "It's so strange," he mused, turning it over. "All these pictures - and the certificate - dated forty-five years in the future." He looked up, shaking his head. "So strange."

The Doctor looked back and forth between them, his eyes worried. "Are you sure about this? It's - a long time."

Canton looked back down at the binder in Tim's hands, the framed certificate over it, and nodded. "I'm no stranger to uphill climbs," he said. "Neither is Tim. Sure, we can get married in 2015, but unless you want to spend the next fifty years visiting every couple in the States in secret, someone's going to have to stick around to make sure it's possible."

"If that's what you want," the Doctor told them. "You know where to find me, if you change your minds." He gave both of them a wave, and pulled the TARDIS door open. The couple waved back as the blue box vibrated, and disappeared, leaving them alone in the dappled sunlight of July 18th, 1972.


End file.
